


CMO

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 06:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Paul visits sickbay.





	CMO

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Since Mirror Hugh doesn’t seem to have a canon, I’m making it up.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Paul _hates_ going to sickbay. It’s a normal complaint, one that most of his assistants share, because the Empire seems to confuse the “doctor” title with “torturer.” More than once, he’s sent an underling there and had them never return. He can just imagine the so-called doctors deeming a patient with a paper-cut wider than two millimeters not worth the effort and flushing them right out the air lock.

When he suffers a plasma burn in Engineering, he swears, maybe whimpers, and promptly tries to hide it, because as bad as it hurts, it’ll probably hurt worse to get “healed.” He tries to work through the pain until his work starts slipping for it, and then his mind starts conjuring possibilities for if his project is delayed. That would probably hold even worse consequences. Sickbay is a nightmare, but nothing’s as bad as being dragged before the Emperor herself, or worse, having Lorca come after him.

So Paul begrudgingly marches himself into sickbay, makes absolutely sure the nurses hear just how important he is, and holds himself up straight like he’s not going to die without a fight. He knows he’s practically hyperventilating as he waits to get fixed, but he really tries to hide it. The last thing he needs is someone realizing how _weak_ he is and sending him to the agonizers to toughen him up. 

The doctor that approaches him is a new one. Decently tall, somewhat dark, and more than handsome, the doctor immediately has his attention. There’s a brief fraction of a second where Paul’s hormones override his good sense. His eyes swept the doctor’s broad chest and stubbly facial hair. He breathes in a hint of slick cologne. 

The doctor asks, “Lieutenant Stamets?” And before Paul can even process that rich voice, his wrist’s being yanked forward and his sleeve is pushed back. The doctor stares down at the affected flesh, lightly twisting Paul’s arm to examine different angles. Paul winces and tries not to cry. It really _hurts_.

“I’m Doctor Culber,” the doctor tells him, eyes still on the wound. Then they glance up to catch Paul’s, and he adds with the barest hint of a smile, “You can call me Hugh.”

Paul tries to smile but probably just grimaces. ‘Hugh’ lets him go and marches over to a table, pulls out a hypospray, and comes back to stab Paul in the thigh. Paul startles and grunts, then relaxes as whatever’s inside the canister releases into his body. His shoulders slump, body numbing just enough that Paul can’t really feel it when Hugh returns with a new instrument that transforms his damaged skin. Bit by bit, the pain recedes, until Paul’s arm is good as new and Hugh’s jerking his sleeve back down. Hugh tells him, “You’re fine,” and dons a grin that might be genuine or might be wolfish—Hugh’s just a _tad_ too woozy to tell.

For a fleeting moment, Paul wonders if it’d be worth the risk to make a pass. He could use someone with medical knowledge on his side, he could _definitely_ use a good fuck, and Hugh looks as good as they come. But his movements, while helpful, where rough, and there’s a good chance he’d be a cruel lover. In the Empire, almost _everyone’s_ a cruel lover.

As usual, Paul airs on the side of caution. He says nothing and leaves, trusting only his own hand.


End file.
